


All In

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas has a boundless capacity for self-destruction. Jimmy has a boundless capacity for something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post on the Downton Abbey Kink Meme: "Black Market Guy was just one more in a long succession of men who used Thomas for personal gain. But at least he was good in bed. Give me the one night stand that turned into the worst deal of a lifetime," although it's not exactly that. Feel free to correct any canon-gaffes. An exhaustive list of every character ever mentioned on the show didn't give a name for the black market provider.
> 
> Some dubious consent, clearly. A bit darker than my previous contributions to the fandom.

The man had been fair-haired, Thomas remembered that much, and young, much younger than he'd expected. He'd pictured the mysterious “Mr. S.” as an older man, dignified, a working-class version of Lord Grantham. Instead, he looked like the second footman to some jumped-up parvenu.

Thomas only met him once, in the middle of a dense forest at the edge of the village. He was late. Thomas stood there, smoking through the last of his cigarettes, until the sun began to go down. He was on the verge of giving up when there was a rustling in the trees and the man emerged, wearing a grey flannel suit and a cap. He looked Thomas up and down, appraising, and said, “You Bernie's friend?”

Thomas nodded. He wouldn't classify them as friends, or even acquaintances, but Bernie at the pub had put Thomas on to “Mr. S.,” and to the idea of the black market as a means of making his fortune. 

“You got the money, then?” 

Thomas nodded again, pulling the envelope out of his pocket. It was fat, stuffed with every shilling he possessed. Literally every last one. He hadn't even had enough to buy a pint the last time he'd met Bernie; he'd just hovered in the corner, under the glowering gaze of the barman, until Bernie turned up and they slipped outside. 

Thomas' stomach turned over as he handed the envelope to the man. It was a risk, but everything he'd ever done was a risk. It would be worth it if it worked. When it worked. 

Mr. S. opened the envelope, his eyes on Thomas. He glanced down, callused fingers riffling the notes and sorting through the coins. He looked back up again. “It's not enough.”

“What?” Fury flashed through Thomas, quick as lightning. “What do you mean, it's not enough?”

Mr. S. shrugged. “I mean, it's not enough.” 

Thomas focused on breathing. Pain throbbed in his hand, pulsing agonizingly along with his heartbeat, but that was nothing new. He ignored it. “Bernie told me that was what you wanted.”

“Yeah, well, we've got some more supplies, so the price has gone up. I ain't splitting up the lot.” Mr. S. closed the envelope and held it out to Thomas. “'Course, if you're no longer interested, just say the word. I've got someone else who is, so I can be on my way...”

Thomas felt his freedom slipping away, again. “No. I'm still interested.” He licked his lips, his mind working. “It'll take some time.” 

“Time, I'm afraid, is what we do not have.” Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but Mr. S. held up a hand before he could speak. “Still, I'm not heartless. I'm sure we can come to an... arrangement.” A look came into his eye, and, in an instant, the atmosphere changed. Thomas smiled. He couldn't help himself.

“I'm sure we can,” he agreed. The man wasn't unattractive, after all. Even if he had been, Thomas had done worse than this for less reward. He went to his knees in the mud.

Mr. S. shook his head. "I can get that anywhere." Thomas stood up. The man stepped closer, his hand reaching around to grasp Thomas' backside in a vice-like grip. 

It was cold and messy and uncomfortable, but it didn't last long. When it was done, Thomas pulled up his trousers, refusing to wince openly, and brushed the dirt from his jacket. Mr. S. fastened his belt. Thomas watched him pocket the money, then Mr. S. turned to go. 

“Wait a minute.” The anger came back, tinged with something else this time. Humiliation. It was an emotion Thomas knew all too well, but he wasn't about to give this worm the satisfaction of seeing it in his face. “What about my supplies?”

Mr. S. laughed. “Don't worry. You'll get them.” 

***

“He was lying.” Thomas looked up. Jimmy sat in the armchair, naked, his feet resting on the bed where Thomas lay. Not for the first time, Thomas wished he had a bed big enough for the both of them, although they had come up with some creative ways around the problem.

“He wasn't.” Thomas shook his head and reached over, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. “I got the food, all right. And every last bit was completely rotten.” 

“Oh, no.” Genuine sympathy crept over Jimmy's face. Thomas looked away. 

“Don't feel too badly. I was so stupid I didn't even know. Mrs. Patmore had to tell me.” 

Jimmy got up and moved over, climbing onto Thomas' knee. The bed creaked beneath them. They'd been together not a quarter of an hour earlier, but Jimmy was hardening again already, his prick poking Thomas' stomach as he straddled his thighs. Such enthusiasm was not unusual for Jimmy, Thomas was learning. They had been friends for over a year before Jimmy expressed a desire for more, but now that he had, it was as if someone had flicked on an electric light. He never seemed to burn out.

“Where were you when I was twenty?” Thomas asked, the ruefulness only half in jest. Even with a warm, naked Jimmy astride him, his prick lay satiated and dormant. That was in equal measures frustrating and worrying.

“Probably at school,” Jimmy replied, leaning in for a kiss. 

When they broke apart, Jimmy regarded him quietly for a moment. Thomas shifted uncomfortably, the bedsprings digging into the backs of his thighs. “Was that really the worst thing you've ever done?” Jimmy asked.

“No,” Thomas answered, easily and honestly. “But it's the worst I'll ever tell you about.”

Thomas wanted desperately for Jimmy to see him as a good man, and he'd worked hard to achieve his goal. He'd had no expectation it would lead anywhere but friendship, but being friends with Jimmy was a worthy pursuit in and of itself. Whenever he made Jimmy laugh, whenever Jimmy came to him with a complaint about Alfred or asked his advice on a professional matter or admired Thomas' skills as an under butler or a cricketer or at convincing Mr. Carson to allow them an occasional evening off, Thomas' heart swelled. He was content to treasure any scrap of affection Jimmy threw his way, no matter how meager. That was his lot in life. Or so he thought, until they lay together for the first time and Jimmy, glowing with post-coital satisfaction, sweetly whispered, “We might have done this a lot sooner if you hadn't been such an overbearing bastard.”

This was so typical of Thomas' luck and his life that he had to laugh to keep from crying. 

Now, Jimmy shifted eagerly in Thomas' lap, his lips exploring Thomas' face as if he meant to make a map. They brushed over Thomas' forehead, his cheeks, his lips. Jimmy's renewed erection grew firmer with every kiss. Thomas knew he was a lost cause, but as he brought up his good hand to offer Jimmy some relief, Jimmy pulled back. “Were you really that desperate to get away from here?” 

Thomas blinked, surprised by the question. “You know what it's like, Jimmy.” The desire for freedom still burned within him, some days more brightly than others. Now, however, his fantasies of making his fortune and his escape always included Jimmy. Assuming Jimmy would want to go.

Jimmy nodded, his eyes soft. He leaned forward again, this time planting a kiss on Thomas' neck and resting his head on Thomas' shoulder. “I'm glad you stayed.” 

“So am I.” Thomas had never expected the words to pass his lips, but life had been full of surprises lately. He wrapped his arms around Jimmy and held him close, burying his face in Jimmy's hair and ignoring the small, ever-present voice that warned him this was going to end as badly as everything else.


End file.
